


Simply Copacetic, My Dear Wonshik

by meanderingmirth



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingmirth/pseuds/meanderingmirth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The insufferable genius detective living in the room opposite of med school student Wonshik grates on his nerves like no tomorrow, but of course that doesn’t stop the almighty Cha Hakyeon from trying to make friends with him (and drag him all over the crime-ridden city to solve all these absurd cases) anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simply Copacetic, My Dear Wonshik

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Sherlock Holmes films (RDJ + Jude Law versions) and [this soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgRVJksQocM&list=PL53B42648B9A3C3A6). Please note this story Includes elements of a murder/mystery! Also, happy N-day! ♡
> 
> enjoy!

 

The sheer amount of smoke pouring out of the open door and windows of the grimy three-story hovel is enough to make Wonshik gag as he rushes up to the entrance, squeezing past a cluster of smokers with half-finished apologies from his lips as he avoids their dirty looks and trips up the uneven steps. He’s barely set foot past the threshold before he runs headlong into a man’s hairy chest— Wonshik barely has time to contain his splutter before he looks meekly up at the towering, balding man, wearing nothing but thick leather trousers.

“Um,” he begins, and swallows when the man sneers down at him.

“You don’t look like you need to be here.”

“Uh, well, I actually do,” Wonshik says weakly, rubbing his frozen hands together. He tries to peek around what he’s figured is the bodyguard of this... particular establishment, but only manages to catch a glimpse of mostly-unclothed bodies strutting around in the semi-darkness before the bodyguard shifts his stance a little to his left, effectively blocking Wonshik’s line of view again.

“I said,” the guy scowls, leaning down so that his sweaty and unshaved face is moves slightly closer to Wonshik’s, “that you don’t look like you need to be here.”

“I’m here to find Cha Hakyeon,” Wonshik blurts out, and winces internally, because depending on who you throw that name to in this city it could either get you weird looks, heavily judgmental glares, or just a straight up concussion. And Wonshik really, really doesn’t fancy a hit to the head coming from this guy.

The bodyguard sniffs suspiciously, like he was trying to detect Wonshik’s honesty through his sense of smell, but after another uncomfortable second of Wonshik leaning back the bodyguard straightens and steps aside with a grumble.

“In and out, bird boy,” he sneers, and Wonshik doesn’t waste any time stumbling in, even as he makes a face at the name.  _Bird boy_?

The haze of pipe smoke only increases as he descends into the throng of drinkers and a crowd of what his professors at the university would probably call degenerates, and desperately tries to avoid accidentally brushing up against anybody. He hears laughter trail after him as he shuffles across the room, horribly out of place with his long coat and threadbare scarf hanging around his shoulders. He stumbles into a secluded hall on the side, squinting at his surroundings, and desperately tries to recall what the telegram his incredibly sleepy and irate landlord had thrust into his face an hour ago, at roughly two in the morning.

_My dear Wonshik, I am out on a case tonight, as you may have possibly guessed, and I have enlisted the help of our kindly and resourceful friend Sanghyuk to keep a lookout for me as I delve deeply into my work. Should this message be sent to you, it will be because my autonomy has been impeded and thus I require your assistance. So please, come at once, if convenient._

And beneath that, underneath an address and a room number, is the post-script:  _If inconvenient, come all the same_.

Typical Hakyeon.

To his surprise, the door of the indicated room on his telegram swings open just as he’s a few paces away— a beautiful young woman with long black hair, heavily made-up eyes and flowing silk gown on steps out. She catches sight of Wonshik and her red lips widen into a knowing grin, and Wonshik nods at her as he squeezes past, doing his best to press himself up against the peeling wallpaper as a sickly sweet scent of fruit wafts around her. The woman’s laugh echoes after him as he stumbles up to the door and wrenches it open—

—only to swear and yank the door back shut right away.

Wonshik grips the handle and pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a terrible headache coming on that has a lot less to do with all the smoke and a lot more to do with the sight he’d just lay eyes on. Good god. Hakyeon is the  _worst_.

He hears muffled shouting coming from inside, and mentally counts to ten so that the first thing he does when he goes inside isn’t to immediately throttle his flatmate (but it’s a terribly tempting thought right now).

He reaches ten, takes a breath, and opens the door once again. He steps inside the room, crosses his arms, and glares at Hakyeon, who gives him an annoyed look.

“That was a very disheartening reaction, you know,” the detective complains as Wonshik closes the distance between him and the bed, eyeing the scene before him with a judgmental eye. In turn, Hakyeon simply holds his stare with casual nonchalance, like he wasn’t half-naked with his wrists cuffed to the sides of the bed. There’s even a leather collar around his neck, for god’s sake. “Oh, yes, please do keep on staring. I’m simply copacetic right now.”

“You know, I am  _really_  tempted to just leave you here for the night,” Wonshik informs Hakyeon bluntly, and gets an indignant reply.

“What? Why? You’re already here,” Hakyeon complains, wiggling his sockless feet, tucked under his crossed legs. The stretch of his arms are making his collarbones pop, and Wonshik’s not sure if he should be staring. Somehow, he feels like he’d worked himself up and worried over nothing again. This was Hakyeon in his natural element, after all.

The weird escapades all over the city for a case, that is. Not this... shirtless, handcuff and collar ensemble. That is a whole other thing.

“Well, I should have never come in the first place,” Wonshik says instead, lifting his gaze back to Hakyeon’s eyes, and the detective gives him a look.

“But you would’ve anyway,” Hakyeon retorts, and Wonshik instinctively braces himself for the upcoming speech he knows is about to happen. “It’s not like you’re asleep at this hour— you’ve never asleep anyway, except for when I need your help in the flat, apparently— because of that horrendously difficult midterm test you’ve been whining about for a solid week now, so I’m not waking you up from anything. I’ve timed it perfectly, you know, I told Sanghyuk to wait outside and if I failed to show up at quarter past one in the morning to send Taekwoonie a telegram. And he’s a light enough of a sleeper anyway, and once he gets the message to you, I’ve factored in the amount of time you’d spend griping about my inconsiderate behind before searching for your scarf— which I knew you misplaced on the kitchen chair earlier this afternoon when you were distracted sorting out the mail— before rushing down to this particular location. And even though there’s construction work on the main street right now it’s nighttime so you’re free to traipse through the site as you please, which would’ve cut your travel time down by precisely twelve minutes and last just enough time for me to finish interviewing my source and for you to come to my aid. Also, my presence is a vital part of your daily life, so of  _course_  you would make sure I am able to return home.”

“...I am, as usual, impressed by your ability to conjure up all that nonsense without any extra help,” Wonshik deadpans, crossing his arms. “And why on earth would I be happy to see you back in the flat, pray tell? Just this morning you set the bottom half of my best suit on fire.”

“I cover half the rent,” Hakyeon says, and Wonshik’s eye twitches. His headache is not getting any better at all.

“Now please,” Hakyeon sighs, dramatically slumping against his strung-up arm. “My wrists are aching _dreadfully_. Please free me from these feral restraints and we can all head home, and you can continue your soul-consuming studies and I will go back to my usual work of unparalleled genius.”

“What are the chances of that lady coming back and gagging you so I can have some peace and quiet tonight?” Wonshik groans, but he picks up the little silver key on the nightstand and jams it into the handcuffs anyway. Once both cuffs are unlocked, Hakyeon frees his arms with a satisfied sigh, rubbing at the skin tenderly.

“Lovely,” he says briskly, hopping off the bed and doing a full-body stretch, somehow managing to crack his shoulder along the way. He drops his arms down a second later with a satisfied sigh, letting his tousled, fluffy bangs flop back over his forehead. “Well, that’s all I need here, I believe it’s time to get back on the road.”

“What, not even a thank you?” Wonshik asks, arching an eyebrow as he watches Hakyeon scurry around the room, searching for his boots. He reappears a moment later and gives Wonshik a winning smile, clapping him on the shoulder to steady himself as he shoves his bare feet back into his footwear.

“I’ll pay you back by giving Taekwoon rent on time,” Hakyeon says cheerfully. Up close, he smells faintly of sweat, heavily spicy perfume, and possibly rainwater. “Now, if you don’t mind, I shall commandeer your scarf for the trip home, because I haven’t the slightest where my shirt went and it’s bloody freezing outside.”

And Wonshik wants to say  _yes, he does very much mind_ , but he’s also known Hakyeon long enough to know when it’s a lost cause.

The grubby, temporarily misplaced scarf is handed over without compliant.

+

He stumbles out of his lecture hall at three in the afternoon the next day, head swimming with various latin terminology, diagrams of bones and muscles and limbs that have all jumbled up into a murky puddle of confusion over the two and a half hour exam. There’s an incredible build up of stress inside of him, one part relating to his medical studies and two parts relating to Hakyeon’s existence, which probably isn’t relieved in any way at all when he trudges back to the flat and runs into Taekwoon on the landing as he’s dusting the umbrella stand.

“Hakyeon has acquaintances over,” he informs Wonshik simply, and Wonshik doesn’t even stop himself from falling to his hands and knees onto the floor, groaning like he’d just been sucker punched in the gut. Hakyeon and his connections are usually the reason why half of his possessions end up vanishing mysteriously, or weirdly experimented on.

“I should’ve known there was a reason why the vacancy remained open for so long,” Wonshik whines, clutching at his hair. Taekwoon hums neutrally and steps around him to dust the spaces between the banister now.

“If it’s any consolation, you’re the only one who’s lasted this long. An impressive feat, I might add, given the fact that I can hear you two arguing at the most peculiar hours in the morning. And by peculiar I mean the hours when I am most prone to being asleep, if I hadn’t been woken up by you two.”

“Sorry,” Wonshik mumbles, pushing himself back up with a sigh. “If one of his friends accidentally sets me on fire please call the fire brigade, won’t you?”

“I make no promises,” Taekwoon replies serenely, and wanders down the hall before Wonshik could complain further. Now alone, he collects his books and climbs the stairs with a heavy step. He pauses at the door of his apartment, attempting to listen through the door for any signs of screaming, yelling, or possibly live animals, even, because he still has nightmares about that monkey Hakyeon once ‘rescued’ from a peddler while out on a case once.

When it seems like there might not be anything that could potentially do damage to him (yet), Wonshik unlocks the door and slides inside cautiously.

The first thing he smells is something warm, delicious, and almost overly sweet, which might be cranberry pie, and that momentarily throws Wonshik off. Normally, there’s a perpetual smell of various chemicals that Hakyeon had somehow managed to get his hands on or strong pipeweed he liked using to stimulate his brain permeating the air and seeping into the poor mismatched furniture being pushed around the room, but today, there is an overwhelmingly sweet scent of fruit and sugar.

Wonshik drops his messenger bag under the table by the doorway and takes a curious step into the flat, undoing the buttons of his coat as he does, and is startled by a yell so loud and sudden that he nearly trips over a bump in the rug.

“No— no—  _Hongbin!_ ” Hakyeon bellows, and there’s a burst of laughter before a figure suddenly bolts into the living room, crashing instantly into him and sending the two of them tumbling to the floor.

“Argh,” Wonshik yelps, flailing his arms wildly, and above him, he hears Hongbin’s voice say cheerfully, “Oh, look, the doctor’s home.”

Wonshik tilts his head and glowers up at Hongbin, who only gives him a sharp grin in return and doesn’t bother moving off his chest yet.

“Excuse me,” Wonshik says pointedly, and Hongbin’s response is an infuriatingly unaffected smile before Sanghyuk’s voice sounds from above.

“Maybe you shouldn’t do that,” the young pickpocket jokes, sliding his hands beneath Hongbin’s armpit and hauling the other man off him. Hongbin twists easily out of Sanghyuk’s hold and whacks him teasingly in the neck, leaving Wonshik to pick himself off the floor and swipe the grit and sand off his pants with disgruntlement.

“Look alive, doc,” Sanghyuk smirks, watching him roll his sleeves up. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, the usual, putting up with his royal majesty’s nonsense while being a productive member of society,” Wonshik answers dryly, and Sanghyuk laughs good-naturally, slinging an arm around his shoulders as he steers him into the kitchen.

And there, covering every flat, available or unavailable surface, is the most pies Wonshik has ever laid eyes on: it covers the tabletop, clusters along the counter, is stacked in the sink, stored in tottering piles on the chairs and they’re lined up int a neat row along the windowsill.

“What the hell,” he says, staring, and from the head of the table, Hakyeon looks up from where he’s inspecting a slice of pie underneath an elaborate contraption comprised of magnifying glasses, hair disheveled, a smear of jam on the collar of his shirt, and powdered sugar on the tip of his nose.

“Ah, Wonshik, perfect timing, give me a moment to finish up here and we’ll head down to the bakery to search for more clues.”

“ ‘We’?” Wonshik repeats, already feeling a blinding migraine coming on. He hears Sanghyuk laugh throatily by his ear before patting him near the top of his chest and sliding away. He immediately sticks his hand on the inside of his cardigan, just in case Sanghyuk’s twitchy fingers had snitched something from him again. “Pardon the incredulity, Hakyeon, but why is there a  _we_  in this?”

Hakyeon looks up and looks at him like he’s the one with the unreasonable question.

“Well, you’ve always known that I require your expertise in the matters of my cases from time to time, and that I always value a second opinion. Although, I have to admit, I don’t remember you fishing for compliments as often as you used to, my dear friend.”

“I am not finishing for compliments, you misinformed cretin, I’m letting you know that I’ve just finished a very important test that you oh so helpfully interrupted last night, so I think a nap would benefit my personal health a bit more than running all over the city with you on one of your ludicrous cases.”

“Nonsense,” Hakyeon puffs, pushing himself away from the table. He yanks off a hideously paisley-patterned apron before tossing it over the backs of one of the chairs. “I’ve just about had it with these two mocking me over my work, so I need the company of a level-headed, intellectual individual who, granted isn’t nearly as bright as myself, but will manage to hold a solid conversation with me nonetheless.”

“Don’t you just love it when he packages his compliments and insults altogether for you?” Hongbin asks, appearing by Wonshik’s shoulder as Hakyeon disappears through the living room and into his bedroom, muttering to himself again. Wonshik flinches at the sudden closeness and exhales tiredly through his nose, giving the conman a baleful glare.

“Why are you two here too? Don’t you have rich people to rob, or marketplaces to haunt?”

“Yes, but listening to Hakyeon spew his nonsense is usually a lot more interesting than rummaging through some old lady’s underwear dresser for her pearls and diamonds,” Hongbin muses, swiping a cranberry from the gooey pie filling and popping the fruit into his mouth. He sees the look on Wonshik’s face and gives him a wink. “I can see why he likes you walking with him, though.”

“Possibly because I’m the only other person aside from you lot who haven’t made an attempt on his life by now?” Wonshik snorts, but Hongbin shakes his head, a sly grin on his face as he sucks the jam off his fingers in a motion Wonshik really doesn’t want to think of as suggestive (but it probably is).

“No, but I think it’s mostly because Hakyeon really likes looking at your face.”

Wonshik splutters, cheeks heating up. “He does  _not_.”

“Oh, but he  _does_ ,” Hongbin tosses back, and Wonshik opens his mouth to deny, but he’s interrupted by Sanghyuk’s loud chortle as the pickpocket stumbles back into the kitchen, holding up something leather and black and with a silver buckle on the back.

“What is this?” he laughs, and it takes Wonshik a second to recognize the leather collar from yesterday night. He chokes on his breath and snatches it out from Sanghyuk’s hands, and then thinks better of it and hurls it into the mess in the living room, where it vanishes behind a stack of Hakyeon’s eight-volume collection of the Encyclopedia Britannica.

“ _Oh_ ,” Hognbin wolf-whistles, actually looking impressed. “Damn. I didn’t think you had it in you, doc.”

“That is— that is not— why are you rifling around our things!” Wonshik cries, grabbing Sanghyuk by the collar, and the younger man just shrugs with a mostly-apologetic grin, his cap askew on his rumpled hair.

“Hey, man, I’m just curious. No judgement at all. Just glad Hakyeon’s found someone he can, ah, really rely on, if you know what I mean, heh—”

“That is not the nature of the relationship between Hakyeon and I,” Wonshik groans, shoving Sanghyuk away from him. “You two have such creative imaginations. And by creative, I mean uncalled for, and unnecessary.”

“What a mean man,” Hongbin comments cheerily, and Sanghyuk fixes the front of his shirt with the mockery of an aristocrat straightening his suit.

“Seriously, doc, I know Hakyeon isn’t the best flatmate, but it’s been ages and you’re probably the only person who’s managed to live with him at close quarters and still remain relatively sane. I’m inclined to think you’re fond of him, at least.”

“Yeah, I’m fond of Hakyeon,” Wonshik snorts, his gaze roaming over the ‘organized mess’ in their apartment. “Fond of seeing his retreating back.”

“My retreating what?” Hakyeon demands, strolling out of his room, and he’s managed to clean the powder off his nose and is dressed again, in a shirt and trousers that look like they haven’t been ironed since it came out of the wash (if it did ever get a wash, indeed). Still, he succeeds in drawing the viewer’s attention away from his lacklustre outfit by winding a bright red scrap of a scarf around his long neck and tucking the unravelling ends under the collar of his shirt.

“Nothing,” Wonshik answers, and Hakyeon hums, patting him absent-mindedly on his arm as he tugs his cane loose from the pile of opened crates in the corner of the room.

“Well, let’s not dawdle then, Wonshik, we’ve got a lot to do.”

“You really are pretending you didn’t hear the part about me saying I’m not going out, are you?” Wonshik sighs, but his arm is already gravitating towards his discarded coat— Hongbin and Sanghyuk are snickering in the background— and he shrugs it over his shoulders in resignation.

Hakyeon smiles winningly at him as he tugs open the door, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards into a slightly roguish grin. “My dear Wonshik, I’m certain this case will help you broaden your perspective and stimulate your mind.”

“Are you sure that’s all that’ll be stimulated ‘round here?” Sanghyuk calls, seemingly unable to stop himself, and Wonshik rolls his eyes before shoving Hakyeon out the door.

“What did he just say?” Hakyeon asks, peering over Wonshik’s shoulder at the closing door, and he just shakes his head, nudging Hakyeon towards the stairs.

“Don’t you have a job to get on with?”

“Yes,” Hakyeon clucks his tongue, and finally allows Wonshik to steer him over to the top of the stairs, adjusting the front of his coat as he walks. “Well, if anything goes missing in there, at least I’ll know who to hunt down.”

+

“So what  _is_  this case of yours, anyway? And what’s with all the pies?”

“I am very glad you asked,” Hakyeon says, a satisfied look on his face. He’s always eager to share the facts of a case with Wonshik, willing listener or not, and as a result Wonshik finds himself engaged in the conversation anyway, drawn in to Hakyeon’s meandering trains of thoughts and oddly specific observations. And loathe as he is to admit it, it’s given him quite a bit of insider knowledge about all of the things that happen in the city, under the noses of the citizens as they all rush about their daily business. For example, he’s gotten rather familiar with all the routes of the underground sewers and has gained a particular skill in picking apart German locks.

Sometimes, he really wonders just  _what_  Hakyeon can see with his keen talent. Wonshik once had a very unflattering image of Hakyeon with bug eyes and twitchy antennas on top of his head detecting lies and deception enter his imagination, which he thoroughly blamed on a lack of sleep during his final exam periods. But then, there are the times where Hakyeon can be seen sitting along the edge of the windowsill, hands tucked into the pockets of his thin trousers, stretched nicely over thick thighs, and his brows are furrowed as he looks out of the window at nothing in particular, simply absorbing the dull afternoon sun while the breeze ruffles his hair.

Other times, he’s sitting low in the maroon armchair in front of the fireplace, only lit during the coldest days of winter or when Hakyeon has decided he’s going to do his ‘thinking time’ and won’t be moved for a couple of hours or, quite possibly, a few days. There, he sits with one leg crossed over the other and his fingertips steepled together beneath his chin, mouthing along to soundless words and gaze drifting in and out of focus while the firelight dances on the smooth angles of his face, accentuating his cheekbones and the long bridge of his nose. That’s a scene Wonshik knows he can’t interrupt, regardless of whatever he wants, because Hakyeon is being serious and doing what he does best, and there’s something rather arresting about such a moment that seems to exist between moments, and above all other forms of intelligence.

“ _Wonshik_ ,” Hakyeon’s voice says, and it snaps him out of his thoughtful daze without warning. Wonshik reels momentarily, out of place, and would’ve walked right into a grumpy old lady if Hakyeon hadn’t seized his arm and pulled him back, so that Wonshik stumbled over the uneven stone and fell against Hakyeon’s chest.

They stared at each other, shifting as they regain their balance, and Wonshik swallows, embarrassment creeping up his sides.

“What?” he asks, a tad defensive, and Hakyeon tilts his head.

“I asked, if you were aware of what the connection between the untimely death of the Baroness Jang during her twenty-first birthday party and this particularly tasty cranberry is?” Hakyeon says lightly, and manages to lift his arm up, to show Wonshik a plump red berry. Wonshik stares, and then shrugs his shoulders, utterly bemused. Hakyeon tuts and answers, like it should’ve been the most obvious response: “ _Pies_ , Wonshik. Good ol’ mom and pops style, home-baked pies.”

“Right,” Wonshik replies, watching Hakyeon pop the cranberry cheerfully into his mouth. He jumps again when Hakyeon’s hand land on his waist and help him upright, completely forgetting their position, and he straightens the front of his coat unnecessarily as Hakyeon lifts his cane and begins to stroll at normal pace down the street again, each step clacking against the wet stone. “And how, exactly, does that make sense?”

“Yesterday night, a young pie baker by the surname of Lee was arrested in relation to the murder of a young noble woman. It was noted that after she consumed a slice of his bakery’s signature Red Cranberry Pie, she collapsed, foaming at the mouth, before expiring quite promptly. The pie maker was then subsequently apprehended by the authorities and taken away for trial. And this is where we come in, of course,” Hakyeon says matter-of-factly, coming to a very abrupt halt in front of a store. Wonshik nearly walks into Hakyeon, and he swerves awkwardly to the side, grumbling. However, Hakyeon simply pats him on the arm and steps up to the darkened shop, where a collection of cakes and pastries stood on display at the window beneath a pink and white sign proclaiming: LEE’S PATISSERIE DREAMS _._

“So this is the place you ransacked and stole fifty possibly  _poisoned_ pies from.”

“No, I brought out all the pies from a neighbouring shop around the block for an experiment, but that’s not what we should focus on right now. Look at this store; it’s hardly the place of a murderous plot unfolding, don’t you think?” Hakyeon says brightly, and Wonshik slants him a look.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“There’s always a secret waiting for us to discover, Wonshik,” Hakyeon chuckles, and from the depths of his coat, he retrieves a tiny golden key on a white ribbon.

“Even if it might be a crazy, mass-murdering freak?” Wonshik demands, fidgeting as Hakyeon unlocks the front door of the bakery.

“Even if it might be a crazy, mass-murdering freak,” Hakyeon replies solemnly, and Wonshik shakes his head.

“One day, you are going to get yourself into the worst predicament ever and I’m going to find your dead body tossed into the river weeks later, and I will regret ever moment I spent worrying over your soggy, reckless behind when I could’ve spent it all studying and becoming a proper doctor.”

Hakyeon pockets the key, but as he lays his hand on the brass doorknob, he turns to Wonshik, a peculiar light in his eye as he gazes up to Wonshik’s face with curiosity.

“So you do worry about me,” he says softly, and Wonshik feels like he’s just run headlong into a brick wall. His heart rate picks up, his mouth falls open ever so slightly, and for a moment his voice is caught in his throat.

But before he could utter another word— or anything else for that matter— Hakyeon turns the knob and steps into the bakery without waiting for an answer.

+

They spend a fruitless hour scuttling about in the kitchens of Lee’s bakery, during which Wonshik stepped lightly around the tables, ovens, shelves of ingredients and heaps of dry ingredients stacked into the back of the storerooms. He picks up the sweet, sugary smells of syrups, the sharp tang of dried fruit, a dense, nearly odourless scent of flour and powdered sugar, and observes the careful way each utensil is stored on the shelves or hung up on little hooks on the wall, or how the firewood is stacked in a neat little pile underneath the soot-blackened ovens. It’s obvious that the place is well-cared for, even loved, and used during sessions of heavy, intensive baking.

And of course, Hakyeon has already bypassed all that and gone for a further investigation.

“It’s well-cared for place, yes, but hardly prospering,” Hakyeon says as they walk into the police station later that afternoon, tugging the top buttons of his coat loose as he does. “From what I can remember in the passing, the quantity of the pastries being made by day has gone down quite a bit, and if you’d noticed the kitchen, there’s a portion of it that remains unused, despite showing signs of wear and previous work on it beforehand. My guess is that Lee’s business isn’t doing so well, and he’s been forced to relieve some of his bakers of their duties, possibly because of the sudden boom in imported sweets and delicacies that have risen as a trend. Thus, when he received an order of a custom pie for a rich Baroness, why would he turn it down? He’d bake a delicious pie, send it over to the mansion, where it would end up in the unfortunate Baroness’ plate for her consumption. And since we’re all aware of  _who_  it was that sent the pie, it only makes sense for the authorities to arrest Lee.”

“Yeah, but what are the odds he’d kill her?” Wonshik asks, frowning as they descended underground, where the smell of dampened earth surrounds him almost oppressively. “He has no reason to.”

“Well, conspiracy can’t be ruled out yet,” Hakyeon hums. “There’s always a possibility that Lee was hired to kill the Baroness, perhaps for a large sum of money... but we’ll have to see about that. Ah, here is the man of the hour.”

Wonshik elbows Hakyeon in the ribs, giving him a pointed look at the insensitive dig, because the poor fellow huddled on a bench in the far end of the jail cell looks anything but lively. He looks up when Hakyeon drags a stool over and plops himself right in front of the bars, weaving his arms through the iron so he could rest his elbows comfortably in the spaces. His hair is unkempt, there are bags under his eyes, and stubble has grown in, but there’s a look of recognition on his face when he sees Hakyeon.

“Y-you,” the man stammers. “You’re that detective.”

“Indeed,” Hakyeon answers, and he looks a mite disgruntled at not being addressed by his name. “Cha Hakyeon, at your service. The handsome but rather stiff fellow by my side is Mister Kim Wonshik, medical student in training, but a mostly trustworthy and knowledgeable aid in my times of dire need. I supposed you’ll know all about dire situations though, won’t you?”

“Please,” the man— Wonshik figures out by now this is probably the poor incarcerated Lee suspected of killing the Baroness— pleads, stumbling off the bench to clutch at the bars. “I’m innocent. You have to believe me— I’d never do something so drastic as  _murder_.”

“Well, that’s what we’re here to figure out, isn’t it?” Hakyeon says brightly, and Wonshik internally sighs at the casual use of ‘we’ again. He’s not getting out of this one, not anymore. “But I have to say, Mister Lee, the odds are not good for you right now. It looks like a pretty standard open-and-shut case, and the fact that you’ve got a noble family out for your blood probably isn’t doing you any favours.”

“They say they’ll hang me without trial once they can get the request through to the judge,” Lee moans, burying his face in his hands. “I can’t die— oh, lord, I’ve got someone very dear for me back at home, I can’t leave her like this.”

Wonshik looks down at Hakyeon, who’s tapping his chin thoughtfully and completely unperturbed over Lee’s distress. “Well, perhaps you’d better tell me all that you know about that pie,” the detective prompts the desolate baker, who raises his head and stares woefully out from between the bars at them.

“What is there to say? I received an order, I sent a request for fresh fruit for the pie, and it was delivered to my bakery the next morning. I bake it and ordered the delivery boy to bring it to the Baroness’ mansion the same afternoon. Next thing I know, the police are clamouring through my front door and bringing me in for murder!”

“Drastic,” Hakyeon murmurs, dropping his forehead against the bars, and Wonshik turns to look at Lee.

“Is there anything else that happened that day?” he asks. “Think back to any event that seemed out of the ordinary, even if it doesn’t feel like a huge detail.”

Lee purses his lips, but his expression scrunches as he casts his mind back. “Well, that morning was a dreadfully cold one, colder than usual, I might think. I had a few sniffles in the morning. Then, the milk was delivered later that normal, and my poor darling was throwing a fit about it. I just couldn’t placate her, even when the bottles finally showed up on the doorstep. Then I left for work amidst our argument— oh, how I  _wish_  I’d made up with her first, before all this—”

Hakyeon is pinching the bridge of his nose, and his face has adopted a look Wonshik recognizes is him losing his patience with the general folk that doesn’t have as big of a brain as he does.

“—well, then I got to work, and that’s when I received my daily delivery of fresh fruits from the farms down by the canal. Oh!” Lee says suddenly, sitting up. “That’s right! That morning, the old man wasn’t the one delivering the fruits. It was a young lad, one I hadn’t seen before, and he told me he was a new hire on the farm doing the routine delivery for the day. He gave me the fruits, I paid him, and then I went back into the kitchen to begin baking.”

“Now what did this young lad look like?” Hakyeon asks, no longer looking like he’d rather dunk himself into the river on a winter evening. His face is intense with focus, and there’s a gleam of excitement in his eye. Wonshik keeps looking between his friend and the baker, caught up and trying to remember everything. “Any particular features? A noteworthy mole, or a blemish, perhaps? Even the colour of his hair would suffice.”

Lee shook his head helplessly, clutching at his face. “It’s been too long, and I didn’t think to pay attention. He was dressed like any other working young man in the city... sandy-haired, slight build... nothing particularly outstanding.”

“Why did you believe he was the new hire on the farm?” Wonshik interjects, leaning forwards. “I mean, he could’ve been anybody.”

Lee blinks owlishly up at him, thinking. “I— actually, it’s because of his hands.”

“His hands?”

“Yes. There were fruit stains all over them— not an uncommon thing for someone who works on farms to obtain after picking fruits all morning. Some of the softer ones might break, and berry juices are particularly staining. The smell of it was strong too. I assumed he’d been working all morning.”

“Strong, you say?” Hakyeon says suddenly, and Wonshik can practically see the machinery in his brain kicking into high gear. “How would you describe the scent? Was it a fruity sort of sweet, or perhaps, a much  _stronger_  kind of smell?”

“Stronger,” Lee answers. “Rather noticeable.”

“Would you say it’s a pleasant smell?” 

Lee wrinkles his nose and lifts a shoulder. “Personally it reminds me of those candied berries they sell down at the candy shops, all dipped in juice and syrup. It’s so strong it nearly makes me tear up.”

“ _Perfect_ ,” Hakyeon breathes, and he stands so abruptly both Wonshik and Lee jump back. “Well, thank you for your time, Mister Lee. You’ve been very helpful to this case. Wonshik and I will take your information and put it to good use.”

“Are you leaving already?” Lee asks, and Wonshik winces at the terrified look on his face. “Please, you have to get me out!”

“We will,” he hastens to reassure the young baker, because Hakyeon is already doing his coat back up and there’s no sense of expecting comfort from him anymore when he’s gearing up for work. “I promise, Mister Lee, we’ll do what we can to solve the case and help you.”

“Jaehwan,” Lee says gloomily, sticking his hand out between the bars for a shake. “Someone might as well know my name other than my darling, before I die tragically.”

“...right,” Wonshik mumbles, clasping Jaehwan’s hand. “We’ll be back, Jaehwan.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be here,” Jaehwan calls morosely after them as they hurry out from the cells. “I’ve got nowhere else to go, anyway.”

+

“What was that all about?” Wonshik demands once they’re rushing down the street again. “What does the smell of syrup or cranberries have to do with anything?”

“That is what we are on our way to finding out,” Hakyeon replies, wholly unhelpful as usual, and Wonshik sighs, struggling to keep up with the detective’s brisk pace.

“Is there any point in asking what’s going on inside your head right now?”

“No,” Hakyeon chuckles. “But there’s no need to ask. You’re about to find out, too.”

“Please, enlighten me, by all means.”

Hakyeon only deigns to shoot him a mischievous smile over his shoulder, and then he’s whirling down the corner of the next street, coattails flapping in the wind as Wonshik rushes after him, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation making his pulse jump as they crossed busy intersections, ducked between alleyways and squeezed through progressively smaller and smaller streets.

He’ll complain all he wants about Hakyeon’s unconventional methods and penchant for getting him involved by some incredible rearranging of fate, but Wonshik knows himself. Deep inside, he’s really, really, _really_  interested in Hakyeon and his genius ways of solving crimes.

It takes him a moment to figure out where they are, because the last time Wonshik had been here, he was rushing through an empty construction site in the dark, tripping over stacks of plywood and slipping into potholes along the street, but there’s no mistaking the gritty, three-storey building he’d come to rescue Hakyeon from only yesterday night. 

“Why are we here?” Wonshik sighs, eyeing the nighttime establishment with trepidation as Hakyeon strides casually up to the front door. “Whatever you get up to here, I’m definitely not interested in finding out about.”

“Oh shush, you,” Hakyeon scoffs, but there might be a smidgen of red on his cheeks as he opens the front door without knocking and lets himself in. “That visit was also for a case, as you might know. Which, incidentally, ties in with this mystery as well.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“My dear Wonshik,” Hakyeon sighs, giving him a pointed look. “Nothing is ever by coincidence with me. Even the most unexpected can be expected, if only you know where to  _look_.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you practice those lines in front of the mirror before repeating them in the real world,” Wonshik jokes, and gets an incredibly annoyed look before Hakyeon grabs him by the wrist and drags him into the empty lounge, with its chairs stacked upside down on tabletops and smoke-free atmosphere.

“Stand here,” Hakyeon instructs. “Now sniff.”

Wonshik tilts his head, but inhales dutifully. He takes in a complex mix of old wood, spilled spirits, residual pipeweed and—

He rounds on Hakyeon in surprise, eyes widening against his will. “Syrup,” Wonshik says in amazement. “And— and fruit.”

Hakyeon is nodding, a wide smile on his face, and Wonshik feels an odd moment of pride sweeping through him. “Exactly. Now stay here, while I go upstairs to see if one of my acquaintances is awake. Don’t touch anything.”

“As if,” Wonshik scoffs, but as Hakyeon is climbing up the stairs behind the bar with an air of familiarity Wonshik doesn’t totally want to know about, he can’t help but think back to the night he came to free Hakyeon from those blasted handcuffs; he’d smelled the sugary fruit before, here at the establishment, but also earlier this afternoon, when he’d set foot in their flat.

The cranberry pies smelled like the sugary scent found here, and if Hakyeon was right and Jaehwan’s memory didn’t fail him, it was also the same aroma Jaehwan caught a whiff from on the suspicious new fruit delivery man that came by his place yesterday morning.

He’s not sure how long he waits, but a while later, there’s the sound of Hakyeon’s voice and a woman’s before two people come into view at the top of the stairs, descending until Hakyeon is back and a pretty woman with familiar black hair and a sharp grin.

“Hello,” she greets Wonshik, voice throaty. “Remember me?”

“Yes,” Wonshik sighs in resignation, and the woman laughs. Hakyeon mimics his despondent exhale and ties his red scarf back around his neck again, giving Wonshik a wary look.

“She heard you came with me and insisted on saying hello. Which you’ve done now, by the way,” he adds, and the woman nods in amicable agreement. “Thank you for all your help, ma chère. Now, if you’ll excuse us...”

Hakyeon takes her hand and gives her a quick kiss on the back of her hand before striding out of the lounge and towards the hallway, leaving Wonshik to shake his head in exasperation.

“Good luck on your case,” the woman says airily, and Wonshik also takes her hand to give her a proper farewell. “Do let me know if that collar you two took yesterday night made your evenings entertaining, won’t you?”

Wonshik chokes on his next breath, and had never walked out of a room faster than he’d done now.

The beautiful woman’s laugh follows him the whole way out.

+

They return to their apartment following their last stop, wherein Hakyeon immediately hurried up the stairs and threw himself into the flat, door slamming fast behind him and making the hideous old paintings hanging in the hallway rattle. Wonshik winces at the noise and cringes even more when Taekwoon suddenly appears at the end of the hall, holding a gigantic fluffy calico cat in his arms as he gives Wonshik a judgmental look.

“Sorry,” Wonshik apologizes vaguely, because he’s too busy staring at the animal in utter confusion. There had not been a cat here when he left.

“It’s fine,” Taekwoon replies airily, which is a far cry from the passive-aggressive scolding he’d usually bestow upon them, which Wonshik usually gets the brunt of it because Hakyeon is conveniently never around to listen. He suspects it’s because of the huge animal in Taekwoon’s arms, which has prompted an adoring, sappy smile on the landlord’s face as he scratches the cat behind the ears.

“Where did you... you know what, it’s alright, I don’t want to know,” Wonshik mutters to himself, and slips back inside the flat before the scene could get any weirder for him.

Sanghyuk and Hongbin are long gone, but the pies are still all over the kitchen, and Hakyeon is striding to and fro, ducking into his room and back into the pie stash before repeating the whole process again. Wonshik has learned long ago that simply curling up on the sofa and keeping out of Hakyeon’s way is the best course of action at times like these, and the only thing he can really do is ensure Hakyeon doesn’t accidentally trip and break his neck or something, because the detective’s common sense and spatial awareness goes down considerably when he’s busy thinking (most notably, the instance Wonshik had chased Hakyeon around the apartment, shaking an empty bottle after him whilst hollering  _you do know what you’re drinking is meant for eye surgery?_ )

It’s nearly sundown before Hakyeon suddenly bursts back into the living room, startling Wonshik from his vague thoughts of his anatomy assignments with a shout of, “Quickly, on your feet, Wonshik! Before the criminal escapes the city!”

“And how on earth did you come to  _that_  conclusion?” Wonshik demands, but he leaps off the sofa all the same, snagging his coat and gloves as Hakyeon nearly crashes headlong into a pile of old court documents, balanced precariously on a box of seized ivory trinkets from a previous case.

“Constant vigilance, my friend,” Hakyeon informs him gingerly, forgoing his red scarf for an older coat with a higher collar this time. The cane, however, he still tucks under his arm as he reaches into a dresser and suddenly passes Wonshik something dark and metal— a pistol.

“Should I be concerned?” Wonshik demands, but he takes the weapon all the same, checking the chamber before tucking it into his waistcoat.

“For precautionary measures,” Hakyeon manages to say, giving Wonshik a firm pat on the shoulder. “I’m relying on your training from your army school days, Wonshik.”

“Just don’t put yourself in a situation where I actually have to use it, you doofus,” Wonshik retorts, and Hakyeon simply chuckles before he wrenches the front door open and takes the stairs two at a time.

“There’s not a moment to waste, Wonshik! Our man will be making his bold escape across the last ferry this evening, a time most convenient because of lax security during these hours, which will allow him to smuggle his potions and poisons out of the city without notice!”

“You’re making this really dramatic, Hakyeon.”

“Forwards!” Hakyeon shouts back at him in response, ignoring Taekwoon’s faint complaints about their noise from the floor above once they stumble out into the street. “We’ll make our way to the ports now!”

The race across the city has Wonshik’s heartbeat pumping and his legs aching, but the blanket of chilly air that befalls the city during twilight cools his warm face and becomes a crisp gulp of air with every breath he inhales, and it isn’t long before he and Hakyeon are slipping and sliding down the riverbank towards the docks. The last ferry is small, but it’s piping and puffing out thick black smoke, quite ready to depart, and Wonshik’s fears of their suspect already sneaking on board is cleared away when he spies a lonely figure hurrying down the path from the boatyard, a heavy bag in one hand and a bulky wooden crate tucked under the other.

Sandy-haired, slight build. It’s their man.

“There!” he gasps, pointing, and Hakyeon’s gaze swivels in the direction. “Stop him!”

Hakyeon picks up his pace relentlessly, and as they near the dock their culprit notices them rushing towards him. He immediately breaks out into a run, hoping to beat them, but Hakyeon intercepts him and crashes headlong into the man. They collapse onto the dock with a grunt, limbs flailing, and Wonshik leaps forwards yanking the bag out of the man’s hands and tossing it aside before he could use it to hit Hakyeon. In turn, Hakyeon kicks the crate aside as well, and the man curses soundly, kneeing Hakyeon in the chest. Wonshik growls and tackles him back, using his heavier build to push the man off Hakyeon. They grapple furiously until the man worms a hand free and manages to retrieves a small pocketknife from his coat; Wonshik falls back, but the blade still makes contact with the top of his thigh, and he hisses as it cuts into his skin. Blood quickly wells up through the gash in his trousers.

“Wonshik!” Hakyeon says sharply, and Wonshik turns over in time to see the detective striking the criminal sharply across the face with the top of his cane before thrusting the blunt end into the man’s diaphragm, winding him.

Across the dock, the ferry lets out a mournful honk, and smoke billows higher into the air. They all freeze— Hakyeon and Wonshik looking at the man, the man looking at the ferry— and a second later the criminal bolts for the boat, dashing desperately down the dock.

“Don’t let him get away!” Wonshik yells, hobbling to his feet. Hakyeon doesn’t need telling twice; he knows Wonshik will be fine, and the cut is non life-threatening, so he’s sprinting after the crook. Wonshik struggles after them with a bad limp and watches on with mounting fear as the man throws himself at the stern of the departing ferry, trying to climb on, and in turn Hakyeon grabs a handful of the man’s coat, dragging him back. The two teether precariously at the edge of the dock before the imbalance sends them swaying to one side. Hakyeon’s head slams hard against the plated metal edge of the boat, and as the culprit uses the moment of vulnerability to shove a limp Hakyeon off the dock and into the water, Wonshik doesn’t hesitate.

He pulls the pistol out from his waistcoat in one fluid motion, aims, and fires, hitting the man in the back of the knee.

The culprit lets out a wounded cry and falls onto the dock, clutching his leg, and Wonshik hobbles as fast as he could across the distance between him and the edge of the port before throwing himself into the water as well.

He sinks into the freezing water and a rush of bubbles shoot past him. Wonshik feels around blindly, grasping helplessly into the darkness as he searches for anything— the material of a coat, an arm, or even a leg. The cut stings and the water grows colder the further he sinks, and just as Wonshik’s lungs begin to ache with a lack of oxygen, his fingers bump into a hand.

He grasps it without thinking; a moment later his fumbling leads him the material of a coat and a body in the water. Wonshik hooks his hands beneath the arms and kicks his feet frantically, propelling himself to the surface. If there’s one other thing army school had beaten into him aside from the skills in the gun range, Wonshik thinks ruefully, it’s all those relentless swim drills and lifesaving courses they take from Saturday mornings until noon.

They break through the surface of the water, spluttering wildly, and Wonshik’s heart leaps with relief when Hakyeon coughs and spits out a mouthful of disgusting river water. There’s an egg-sized lump already forming on his forehead, and the two of them cling to each other as they bob in the wave left behind by the propellors of the last ferry, puttering away from the dock for the rest of the night.

A sudden splash startles Wonshik, and if he hadn’t been floating around in the ice cold water he might’ve shouted in shock. But when he turns, the shock melts away into relief when he sees that it’s Hongbin and Sanghyuk standing on the dock; Sanghyuk is in the process of tying up the criminal while treating the gunshot wound to his leg, and Hongbin has tossed the end of a thick coil of rope out towards them.

“Grab on to it!” the conman shouts. “I’ll pull you in!”

Wonshik doesn’t waste any time kicking forwards, and together, he and Hakyeon latch on to the rope with frozen fingers while Hongbin drops to his knees on the dock and reels them in with quick, impressive tugs. He grabs the backs of the sopping wet coats and heaves them onto land, quickly shrugging off his own jacket to place around a trembling Hakyeon’s shoulders.

“God, you lot are a sorry sight,” Hongbin says, but he’s grinning at them, and Wonshik had never thought he’d see the day where he’d be  _happy_  with the company of Hakyeon’s eccentric friends. He’s definitely willing to retract all the previous hostility when Sanghyuk helpfully drapes his own flimsy jacket over Wonshik’s back too.

“H-how did you guys k-know where to f-find us?” he asks through chattering teeth, and Hongbin smirks.

“Who do you think told us?” he asks, and Wonshik turns to Hakyeon, who’s got the extra coat wrapped tightly around his sides.

“Let m-me guess,” Wonshik says, and even he can’t help but smile a little despite the cold. “Nothing is ever by coincidence with the g-great Cha Hakyeon.”

And Hakyeon simply laughs, sneaking a hand out from his bundle to grasp Wonshik’s tightly. “And e-even the unexpected  _can_  be expected,” he adds, and Wonshik tries not to be too obvious with his happiness when Hakyeon gives his hand a gentle, meaningful squeeze.

+

“It’s still hard to believe,” Wonshik murmurs to himself, eyes roaming over the headlines of the paper, which boasts the results of the solved Baroness Jang’s case: FORMER JANG HOUSEHOLD DOCTOR ARRESTED AND FOUND GUILTY OF MURDERING THE BARONESS IN A FIT OF JEALOUS RAGE AFTER HIS DISMISSAL.

“What is so hard to believe?” Hakyeon asks, already doing a wonderful job of defying the doctor’s orders of  _no smoking, no drinking, no excessive activities_  by smoking his pipe, buying a bottle of celebratory sherry from the market on the way home, and getting into a loud argument with a sham fortune teller on the side of the road for no reason at all. The carriage wobbles as the wheel falls into another pothole, and Wonshik winces. He’s never liked carriages, or horses, really.

“The man was their family doctor. And just because the Baroness decided to fire him because she didn’t want to employ him anymore, he cooked up this elaborate plan to murder her with a poison and frame an innocent man in the process.”

“Yes, it’s all quite impressive, isn’t it?” Hakyeon hums, rubbing the crisp white bandage on his forehead. “But still no match for me.”

“Of course,” Wonshik rolls his eyes. “And pray tell, how  _did_  you solve this whole case with just the smell of cranberries as your guide, as you so helpfully revealed in this interview?”

“All you need is a place to start, Wonshik,” Hakyeon says primly. “I was tipped off by one of my many eyes and ears in the underground of a curious fellow who spoke of his rage and annoyance against a certain wealthy family, so I grasped on to the tail of this fluffy little rabbit and gave chase. It led me to the lovely pub and the ladies of the establishment from the day before, wherein the heinously over-sugary cranberries became a topic of interest for this fellow, who also liked to take his drinks at the bar on his off nights. It just so happens the saturation of sugar and syrup of this particular brand of cranberry is a common ingredient used in pies, and would help cover up the taste of a certain poison if it’s tweaked the right way. And so, with his medical skills and criminal smarts, this doctor of ours placed an order for a pie at Jaehwan’s bakery, delivered the poisoned cranberries himself to ensure their usage, and successfully poisoned the Baroness with the gift of pie at her own birthday party. I had Sanghyuk watching the pub and Hongbin lurking about in the docks, which helped us stay on top of the suspect. We came, we saw, we conquered. Voilà. Case closed.”

“Just another day in the life of the great detective,” Wonshik shakes his head, but he’s smiling as the carriage pulls up to their apartment block. Hakyeon hadn’t been lying when he said the case would ‘broaden his perspective and stimulate his mind’. Here was definitely an example of a doctor he  _shouldn’t_  aspire to become, Wonshik thought to himself as he tucks the paper back inside his coat and accepts Hakyeon’s cane as they climb out of the carriage. His leg is fine, but Wonshik was also given strict orders to rest it, and he’s lived with Hakyeon long enough to see the loan of the cane as a show of gratitude for pulling the detective out of the river.

“Those ridiculous tortoise shells are a horrible contraption that consists of uncomfortable seating, noisy decorations, and unruly horses,” Hakyeon announces as they walk up the front steps and open the door into the building. “If I—”

But he stops short there, because there’s someone attempting to exit the building just as they’re trying to enter. The first thing Wonshik sees is the gigantic calico cat, and then the man holding the cat lifts his head, and Wonshik almost drops Hakyeon’s cane in surprise.

“ _Jaehwan?_ ”

“Hello!” Jaehwan says brightly. “My good sirs, I cannot emphasize how much I thank you for helping me clear my name.”

“Not a problem,” Hakyeon says, looking at the cat. “I see you’re out and about again.”

“Yes!” Jaehwan beams. “I was released from jail this morning. And thanks to you two, I can finally hold my darling in my arms again! Oh, how I’ve missed you, my sweet companion,” he coos, cuddling the cat close, and just like that, the memory of Jaehwan bemoaning the separation from his loved one clicks in Wonshik’s head.

“Your darling is your  _cat_?”

“Of course!” Jaehwan replies, and the calico in his arms purrs in a very rumbly, self-satisfied way. It reminds him greatly of Hakyeon whenever he manages to get a rise out of the chief of police whenever he goes in for a visit. “She means the world to me, and she’s suffered just as much as I have during this whole ordeal, haven’t you, baby?”

“Wow,” Wonshik says, feeling like he’s stuck between laughing and sighing, and he and Hakyeon step aside to let Jaehwan pass. Standing at the end of the hallway is Taekwoon, who is watching the departure of the cat with a very sad look indeed.

“I must thank you, Hakeyon, for having your friends pick up my cat and leaving her in Taekwoon’s capable hands,” Jaehwan says. Wonshik strongly suspects those ‘friends’ are Hongbin and Sanghyuk and ‘picking up’ most likely pertains to something along the lines of unlawful entry, but he wisely stays quiet.

“It was only a simple case,” Hakyeon replies, shaking Jaehwan’s hand before the baker turns to shake Wonshik’s as well. “And you were innocent. But you’ll have to come and visit Taekwoon sometime though, I think he’s grown fond of your cat.”

“But of course,” Jaehwan gushes, and throws Taekwoon a winning smile over his shoulder. “And should any of you come by  _Lee’s Patisserie Dream_! Your tea, cakes, and any pastry of your liking will be on the house.”

“We’ll remember it,” Wonshik chuckles, and they bid Jaehwan a good afternoon before clambering back into the lobby.

“You will not set up dates for me, Cha Hakyeon,” is all Taekwoon tells them before he turns and drifts back down the hallway, leaving a smug Hakyeon standing by the doorway as Wonshik looks in shock between Taekwoon’s back to the door Jaehwan left through, before deciding that it really is best to not question  _anything_  around here anymore.

“Shall we?” Hakyeon asks, jolting him from his thoughts, and Wonshik looks up to see Hakyeon standing on the step above him, offering his arm. He takes the proffered elbow, grinning to himself as Hakyeon aids his walk up the stairs and his hobble down the hall. The two of them wedge themselves into the nook their doorway is tucked into, and Wonshik’s throat closes up when he notices just how closely they’re standing by each other.

Hakyeon seems to notice too (but then again, the man notices everything), and he gives Wonshik a little smile, eyes bright. “I am curious, you know, as to why you haven’t moved out already.”

“What do you mean?” Wonshik asks, confused, and Hakyeon nods towards the door.

“None of my former roommates have lasted even half as long as you’ve stayed, and I can’t help but say that I’m intrigued, and that I wouldn’t be offended if you decided to move out, you know.” Hakyeon takes a breath, and Wonshik has a feeling it’s costing the detective more than he’s letting on to say this. “You have an education to pursue, and I’m aware that I am not the best of roommates when it comes to helping cultivate a calm, stress-free studious environment.”

“That is true,” Wonshik says without hesitation, and can’t quite curb his laughter at the sight of Hakyeon’s indignant expression. “But I have to say, I am somehow gaining quite a bit of life experience by association with you, and that’s really nothing they can teach me in the lecture halls, or the labs, or anywhere else, really. Mind you, I could do without some of the near-death experiences or you scaring me out of my mind when you accidentally drink embalming fluid, or whatever, but I— I like it here. If I’m quite honest, I don’t think I’ll move.”

Hakyeon gazes up at him, and he places the palm of his hand against Wonshik’s cheek. It’s warm, and soft, and he smells faintly of smoke and spice.

“So you do worry about me,” he whispers, and Wonshik leans in at that; kissing Hakyeon is a bit jarring at first, because Hakyeon starts off by freezing up like he’d just walked into an ice box and then his hand drops off Wonshik’s face to fall onto his shoulder, but Wonshik’s patience pays off when Hakyeon regains himself and tilts his head immediately after, angling their mouths so that the kiss could go smoothly. Wonshik smiles unabashedly into the kiss, and moves to rest the hand that isn’t gripping the cane against the curve of Hakyeon’s waist, often hidden beneath the bulk of his coats and jackets.

“I’m starting to think it’s not only worrying,” Wonshik says when they finally draw apart, lips tingling and heads spinning. “Maybe there’s a bit of love in there too, you know?”

“My dear Wonshik,” Hakyeon replies, laughter in his eyes and a smile on his lips. “I do believe you’re right.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- ["you do know what you're drinking is meant for eye surgery?"](https://youtu.be/PzqnDMIhKyw?t=33)  
> \- ["you're drinking embalming fluid"](https://youtu.be/HHW2VCbrMYg?t=98)
> 
> thank you for taking the time to read!


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